They had been traversing the marshes of Eyllwe for less than a day, and already Elide was anxious to be gone from this place. Moisture beaded along every inch of her skin, despite the thick clouds obscuring the sun. No merciful gust of wind dared stir the curtain of humidity draped over the waterlogged islands. The very air here felt stagnant, but that didn't stop Elide from gulping it down as she struggled to keep pace with the warrior striding beside her. Even though his magic now kept a constant, bracing hold around her ankle, she was still slowing him down. Elide felt she was waging a silent battle with this muddy path they walked. Every footstep sunk further than the last, as though the ground were determined to hold her. Or perhaps it was not the earth, but the unquiet dead who dwelled beneath it, that sought to pull her down beneath the soil. Fighting to free her boot, she wondered, not for the first time that day, at the wisdom of trespassing here. Next to her, Lorcan turned at her quiet curse as she finally yanked her foot free.

"Not getting along with the marsh?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow at her. She refrained from voicing her concerns that it was, in fact, the dead with whom she and her mud-soaked shoes were quarrelling.

"It's fine," she replied, stopping to wipe her brow with a sleeve. This had little effect, as the fabric was as damp as her skin. She scowled.

"The next island isn't far. It looks less muddy than this one, so it should be easier to keep your footing," Lorcan said. Elide tried to peer into the distance, but could discern no difference between this patch of land and the next, separated by a stretch of glassy, still water. She looked at Lorcan skeptically. "How do humans accomplish anything with eyesight so poor?" he asked with a smirk, pulling a water canteen from his pack. Sweat glistened along the length of his throat as he tipped his head back for a drink.

"How do demi-fae manage to stand with such bloated egos on their shoulders?" Elide retorted. Lorcan passed the canteen to her, rumbling with soft laughter. Elide was so startled by the sound that she paused with the water halfway to her lips, staring in amazement. Lorcan, seemingly under the impression that she had just seen some new danger approaching them, freed an axe from his belt faster than her eyes could track. He closed the distance between them, scanning the area for whatever threat she had spied.

"What is it? What did you see?" he hissed quietly, one arm thrown protectively in front of her.

She laid a reassuring hand on his tense forearm as she responded, "Lorcan, there is no danger."

He turned, so close to her now that she needed to tilt her head back to see his face. "Then what reason did you have for staring like a wide-eyed doe?"

"I was simply surprised to hear you laugh." Elide couldn't help but smile at the incredulous look on his face. It was a surprisingly human expression.

"Should I have defended my massive ego instead?" he asked, the corner of one mouth twitching slightly, as though fighting his own smile.

"No, it wasn't that." Her grin faded as she looked into those depthless black eyes. "I've never heard you laugh." Lorcan held her gaze, his face betraying nothing of his thoughts. She realized then that she was still touching him, her hand grasped lightly above his wrist. Almost subconsciously, she stroked her thumb down the inside of his forearm. She thought his eyes closed momentarily at her touch.

"Did you think," he began, his voice low and hoarse, "that in over five hundred years, I had never learned to laugh?"

"No, no of course not, it was just…a nice change." Elide's face was burning. Lorcan must think her incredibly foolish, standing around mooning over him in the middle of a possibly haunted swamp just because of one quiet laugh. She hastily dropped his arm, taking a swig from the canteen in the hopes of cooling her flaming cheeks. "Well, we've rested long enough, time to move on," she said brusquely, unable to meet Lorcan's eyes any longer.

They trudged on through the mud for another half hour before Lorcan broke the silence.

"There are not many fae—and no humans— alive today who would try to joke with me, even fewer who would dare make a joke at my expense." Elide glanced sideways at him as she walked, but didn't say anything. "Traveling with someone who is not afraid to do so is…a nice change," he finished, echoing her earlier phrase. Her heart ached a bit for him then, at the loneliness underneath the words.

"I am not afraid of you, Lorcan," she replied truthfully.

"You are afraid of very little, it seems." Elide suppressed a smile. That was practically a glowing compliment from Lorcan.

"That's not true. I was terrified when I saw you for the first time. I thought for sure you were going to slit my throat." The memory was still vivid: Lorcan crouching across the stream, a wicked knife balanced across one knee, eyes devouring her as though trying to decide which artery to sever. A shiver ran unbidden down her spine. His eyes had been so cold and hard then, like chips of onyx. Over the many months of traveling together, that had slowly begun to change. It was like a fire had been kindled deep within him; she could see the flames flickering in his eyes, even if she could not yet feel their warmth. Sometimes she thought it was her imagination, but his gaze dipped to her mouth too often and lingered too long to be mere coincidence.

"Well, I would have saved myself a lot of trouble if I had killed you," Lorcan replied blandly, earning an indignant huff from Elide. She turned to look at him, but he remained facing forward, his curtain of inky hair obscuring his expression.

"I suppose I've given you cause to regret your mercy." He did turn to her then, suddenly halting midstride. Elide had been teasing him with the comment, and was surprised at the intensity of the gaze he leveled on her in response. For several heartbeats, he simply stared at her, his eyes inscrutable. Then he reached out a hand and, with uncharacteristic gentleness, brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead. His fingertips lingered for a moment on her cheekbone.

"I do not regret it." And then he was walking again, leaving Elide to puzzle over this reaction as she limped after him.

An hour later, they reached the pool dividing one island from the next. The water was still and opaque, making it impossible to determine what lay below.

"Any manner of beast might be lurking just under the surface, and we wouldn't know until their jaws were around our throats," Elide said with a shudder, warily eyeing the water.

"I have not yet seen any creature that would endanger us…but I can feel them, nearby."

"As can I." The unpleasant sensation of being watched had increased as they ranged further into the marshlands.

"There is no way around. We must cross here," Lorcan said. Neither of them would turn back now, not knowing that the object of their quest was so near. Elide nodded her assent. "I'll go first, to judge the depth. If it's shallow enough for you to walk beside me, that will keep my hands free in case we must defend ourselves." He loosed an axe from his belt and held it out to her. Seeing the question in her eyes, he added, "I know you can wield it well." She took the axe, remembering that night not so long ago when she had killed ilken with this blade, the night that Lorcan promised to always find and protect her.

"I'm ready," she said, feeling reassured by the weight of the weapon in her hand and the memory of Lorcan's vow. With a nod, he turned toward the water. As his boot broke the surface, there suddenly came a great wave of sound, incongruous with the small ripple his foot's incursion had created. They both looked about wildly for the source as the sound of rushing water broke over them, subsiding quickly like an outgoing tide.

"An echo," said Elide, shaking slightly, "of the ancient flood which drowned this place."

"These waters must have a long memory," Lorcan responded, his granite features betraying a brief flicker of unease. Undaunted, he continued forward into the water. When he was waist-deep, he motioned for Elide to follow him. "The bottom has leveled here. I don't think it will get any deeper." Remaining alert for any movement from below, Elide waded into the brackish water. She was soon drenched up to the chest, and silently cursing Lorcan for the extraordinary height that was keeping his upper body mostly dry. They did not speak as they forded the pool, listening for the ripple or splash that would indicate danger. Elide exhaled a sigh of relief as the ground finally began to angle upwards toward the shore.

"Perhaps the beasts don't hunt in daytime," Elide suggested as she finally emerged, dripping, from the water.

"Perhaps," came Lorcan's quiet reply as he took his axe back from her. His eyes were wandering distractedly down her body, taking in the drenched clothes that clung to her, clearly outlining the generous curve of hip and bust. Willfully refusing to blush, Elide pulled the damp fabric away from her stomach with a squelching sound. Eyes snapping back to her face, Lorcan said, "I expect we will need to cross again before the day is over. Let us hope they don't get hungry."

As Lorcan had observed earlier in the day, this new stretch of land was considerably less muddy, and the footing was easier. Her wet clothes were an irritation, but at least she was cooler now. It had taken all morning and most of the afternoon to slog through the outer marshes, and while the low shrubs and boggy grasses persisted, they were now joined by an increasing quantity of ruins. Most were unidentifiable as anything more than crumbling piles of stone. Occasionally as they walked, Elide would spot a structure which remained intact: a mossy corner wall, a kitchen hearth, a towering chimney. She remembered the grand, exquisite ruins she had seen from the cliff high above the marshes. These sparse remains indicated that they must be in the outer town, winding slowly toward the city she had witnessed. Or, she mentally amended, what used to be the city, when this place belonged to civilization. It was nothing more than a graveyard now, a waterlogged memorial to a tragedy forgotten by all but its ghosts.

Perhaps that was why the ghosts were so restless, Elide mused, because they were forgotten. After the sound of the flood when Lorcan had disturbed the water, she no longer had any illusions that her ears were playing tricks on her; the dead were lifting their voices, growing more insistent as Elide and Lorcan penetrated further into the town. Their cries were carried on the wind in a wordless and eerie lament. Several times, Elide heard a voice nearby, as though someone were standing just on the other side of a stone wall, speaking in hushed tones. At the first occurrence of this strange phenomenon, she veered away from Lorcan toward the sound. She was so sure, if she could just get a little closer and pick out the words, the voice would tell her what had happened here. Drifting toward the wall in a daze, she didn't hear Lorcan calling out to her. She had just reached the wall, was a mere heartbeat away from the origin of the voice, when Lorcan's fingers closed about her upper arm like a vice. He spun her around none too gently.

"What were you thinking?" His voice was a hiss, his eyes fixed firmly on the stone wall behind her.

"Didn't you hear it?" The words were barely a whisper. She half turned in his grip to look at the wall, and that's when she saw it: a massive, metal-plated tail slithering behind a pile of stone nearby. Before she could even open her mouth to warn him, Lorcan had grabbed her bodily around the waist and thrown her over his shoulder. He set off at a dead sprint and did not slow until they reached the next stretch of dividing water, over a mile away. When at last he set her down, he held her firmly by the shoulders as he spoke.

"What you heard was nothing more than the breeze through the stones. The next time you get the urge to wander into a beast's lair and offer yourself up as dinner, remind yourself that it's just the breeze through the stones." She saw the unspoken words in his eyes, and knew he heard the dead as well. Perhaps the armored creature was there by coincidence, or perhaps the voice was luring her on purpose. Either way, it was best to leave the dead undisturbed. She nodded her agreement, which seemed to satisfy Lorcan. He released her and straightened up, scanning the water closely. They crossed in the same fashion as last time, with Elide again enviously eyeing Lorcan's dry upper body while she became soaked up to her chest.

"The sun is setting. We need to find shelter," Lorcan said as they reached dry land. He handed her an apple from his pack, and they made a sparse dinner from the sweet fruit. They walked for another mile before they found a suitable structure in which to make camp for the night. It was an interior section of what looked to have been a town house, well away from any deep pools of water, with two walls still upright. They gathered what dry grasses they could find and piled them together for a bed. Elide nestled down in the corner, swatting away the cloud of insects that was descending upon her.

"These flying creatures didn't bother me much as we were walking, but they've become more troublesome now," Elide said, trying in vain to protect her face from the itchy little bites that were collecting on her arms and neck.

"That's because their meals are so kindly remaining stationary for them," Lorcan replied, his jaw twitching in irritation. He had so far refrained from the undignified handwaving to which Elide was currently resorting.

"I wish I were covered in hard scales like that beast right now. Then they wouldn't be able to find so much flesh to feast on." Lorcan raised a hand in Elide's direction then, and cast a wave of his power straight into the swarm which was plaguing her. Dead insects fell around her like rain.

"Better?" he asked, with a hint of smugness at this display. Elide couldn't help being amused at the situation. An ancient immortal warrior who commanded the power of death itself, using it to spare a lowly human from a minor irritation. She felt a sudden wave of fondness for Lorcan, and smiled broadly at him.

"Much better, thank—" Elide stopped speaking abruptly, as a soft tremor ran through the earth beneath them. Lorcan was at her side in an instant, crouching in front of her. But the soil ceased rumbling as quickly as it had begun. Despite the quiet, Elide felt a lingering presence, as though eyes long closed were open and staring fixedly at Lorcan.

Elide exhaled in relief as the awareness faded, noticing how the small hairs on Lorcan's neck stood up as her breath brushed over them. "Just the breeze through the stones, right?" she whispered. He turned, still crouched low to the ground, and leveled a thoroughly unamused look on her.

"I'll keep first watch and wake you a few hours before dawn," was his only reply. Apparently, he wasn't keen to discuss whatever ancient lifeforce had just taken such a particular interest in him. He was frowning at her, his eyebrows slightly knitted together. "You won't be able to sleep like that."

"Like what?"

"Soaked through to your skin." Her clothes had not dried at all since their last crossing.

"I'll manage."

"Your discomfort will keep you awake, and then you will be even slower than usual tomorrow." Elide looked at him in exasperation. Lorcan seemed incapable of expressing concern for her without mixing in an insult for good measure.

"Well, we can't risk a fire, so there's nothing to be done." She sunk down into the rushes and closed her eyes, considering the matter over.

"My shirt is dry." Elide cracked one eye and regarded Lorcan without speaking. "You could lay your clothes out to dry and sleep in my shirt." Lorcan's voice was very even, his face completely neutral.

"You have nothing else to wear."

"The night is warm." And then, without allowing for further discussion, he swiftly removed his shirt, thrust it at Elide, stood up, and turned his back. For several moments she simply stared uncomprehendingly at the broad expanse of his shoulders. She realized belatedly that he was expecting her to change, and looked away from him with some reluctance. She peeled off her wet shirt and trousers and flung them on top of the wall to air. Lorcan's shirt was so blissfully dry, and still warm from the heat of his body, that she couldn't help the sigh of pleasure that escaped her as she pulled it on. He turned back around with a self-satisfied smirk, which quickly faded as he looked at her wearing nothing but his shirt. His lips parted slightly as his eyes fixed on her with something like hunger. Just as fast, a mask of neutrality descended over his features.

"You were right," Elide conceded, refusing to acknowledge his reaction in case she had imagined it, "this is much more comfortable, thank you." She bedded down on the gathered reeds, pillowing her head in the crook of her arm, as Lorcan sat against a wall nearby. "Today you have braced my ankle so that I could walk without pain, saved me from a river monster, defended me against blood-thirsty insects, and now you've sacrificed the shirt off your back so that I might sleep well." She tentatively reached out for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "For someone who thought about slitting my throat not very long ago, you certainly are gallant."

Lorcan was gazing down at her, still with that careful lack of expression. The last rays of the setting sun broke over them then, lightening the shadows of his harsh face and gilding his silky hair with a watery golden light. Without breaking eye contact, Lorcan dipped his head to their joined hands and pressed a single kiss on her knuckles. "I swore to protect you, remember?" Elide nodded slowly, feeling like she would fall into the depths of those eyes. "Sleep well, Elide."